


The Demon's Tale

by ancestrallizard



Category: Shin Megami Tensei, Shin Megami Tensei Series
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 09:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancestrallizard/pseuds/ancestrallizard
Summary: Violence was the law of his world. Strike before you were stricken. Kill before you were killed. Without exception, any creature that could hurt you would hurt you.





	The Demon's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> My SMT Zine fic. The zine was a lot of fun to be a part of, even if this gave me a ton of trouble and im still not completely satisfied with it. but, i did the best i could while taking classes ,so, here it is

I.

Violence was the law of his world. Strike before you were stricken. Kill before you were killed. Without exception, any creature that could hurt you would hurt you.

His master Lady Echidna branded her own law into the demon’s soul with excruciating venom and a collar that wrapped twice around his neck like a snake. Guard the sole bridge to her island, day and night. Never abandon his post. Never harm her followers. Kill all else who tried to cross. Stay at his post until he was dead. Over time the laws bled together, forming a new ideal that took root in the core of his being; He would kill for Lady Echidna whenever possible, and he would follow her orders above even his own prime directive. This was the sole reason he was alive.

The demon could not remember his life before Lady Echidna. He may have had some idea in the beginning, but after successive punishments he stopped trying to remember. He still glimpsed fragments in his dreams, strange but not unpleasant mosaics of unfamiliar scents and faces, but they always disappeared once he woke.

His charge, the bridge gate and the immediate area surrounding it, were real. It was grey and lifeless, barren even of grass, but it was stability, something he could see and smell and feel. In a sea of uncertainty his responsibility was the sole thing he could be sure of, no matter how much it hurt.

And it often hurt. His master’s followers rarely spoke or looked at him, passing by him as if he were part of the landscape, a monstrous canine statue from a time long gone. When they deigned to see him, it was to hurt him. Not in self defense, as he could not attack them. Maybe out of boredom, or for a challenge, or to take a rare opportunity to attack something stronger than them that could not fight back. He cared little for the reason. Every weapon and spell that struck him hurt the same, no matter what emotion they may have originated from. 

He never rewarded any attack with so much as a whimper, but each pierced his heart, mingling with resentment at his stole freedom, memories, and dignity. His agony permutated into a pathetic, helpless hatred that he expressed tenfold on any intruder unfortunate enough to get caught.

More than water, more than warmth, more than food, it was this hatred that kept him alive. It burned in his core like a furnace, keeping his heart beating as every living thing within his radius – human, demon, and animal – was driven away or, more often, killed. It kept him alive as days turned to weeks turned to months with no sustenance. It kept him alive as his claws yellowed and gnarled, as his pelt hung looser on his hide as his muscles wasted away, as his once thick fur fell limp and unkempt and failed to guard his skin from freezing night air. It kept him alive as he paced the same path over and over and wore furrows into the ground, snarling, eyes wild and jaws frothing and snapping at nothing as if there were some invisible enemy taunting him always just outside his reach.

II.

The demon didn’t know what to think.

He’d smelled two unfamiliar scents on the wind and rushed to meet them as fast as his starved body would allow. Two humans stood just outside his reach without trying to approach the bridge or retreating at the sight of a charging demon. They just looked at him. He’d never seen anyone do this before. Could it have been a trick?

In the moment, he hadn’t cared. He lunged for them without reason, pacing and snarling hoarsely, half strangling himself in a futile effort to snap the invisible bond connecting him to the bridge gate. They were close enough for him to reach them in a few bounds if not for the chain, and the frustration further spurred his hatred.

But his body was finally failing him. It could not keep pace with his outrage, and what little energy he had left was quickly consumed. Before much longer he collapsed, out of breath and exhausted. He waited for them to finally attack.

One of the humans stepped forward. It wore a weapon but did not have it drawn, and it didn’t smell of magic like its companion did. The demon curled his lip from where he lay, vainly trying to frighten it off.

It tossed something at his head and moved back. The scent of real, fresh meat hit his nose, and he bolted it down in one gulp. The human tossed him food again a few more times, and each time the demon ate it, too desperate to be confused about why an intruder would feed him.

After it tossed the last of the food, it spoke to him, repeating one words more than others. With renewed energy, the demon growled at the intruder, snapping and charging again regardless of the chain bruising his throat. The human stumbled back, and both it and its companion retreated into the wasteland.

The demon thought that that would be the end of it. 

But they kept returning. Day after day, the humans would come at the same time and stand just outside his reach. The one without magic would move closest while the other stayed further back. It would throw food to him, and while he ate it would speak to him while sitting close by, gradually closing the distance between them. Its voice wasn’t angry or mocking, like so many others, but soft and measured, regardless of how long the demon growled at it. Whenever it spoke, it would often repeat a specific word again, the same one as before, but the demon still didn’t know what it meant.

His bristling and snarling became more and more perfunctory as days passed, until he made no noise at all when it approached. It just wasn’t worth the energy – nothing he did scared the human away. Further, after a time the demon realized that he didn’t really want to scare it away. The food it gave was good, but even beyond that there was some novelty in the situation that entranced him, curiosity driving him despite his fear. He couldn’t remember when anyone had to spoken to him without an imminent threat in its voice. He could barely remember the last time anyone had spoken or paid attention to him at all – even his collar had not tightened or shocked him in a long time, leading him to believe his master either thought he was dead or no longer cared if he were alive. 

More than once he realized he was the one that was closing the distance between them, not the human.

It was going to harm him eventually, obviously, but the demon wanted to know why the human was taking its time. He played along, taking what he could and waiting for the human to give up its façade. It betrayed nothing, always freely giving even though it looked as if it were going hungry itself, and frequently smiling at him without a trace of mockery. It was odd, but the first time the demon saw it he almost wanted to wag his tail for the first time in decades.

The days passed easier with a full stomach and something to look forward to. He slept easier, and his dreams began to stay with him after he woke instead of dissipating with the morning sun. He knew now that before the bridge he lived as a pet in a house with humans. He grew up there, and there was someone there he’d been attached to more than anyone else. He cared for them, and he thought they cared for him. But if they’d really cared for him, why did they leave him?

III.

The human was inside the boundary.

The demon waited, wary, growl ready in the back of his throat. It wasn’t technically approaching the path to the bridge, and the other human was still outside the boundary. He felt secure he wasn’t betraying Lady Echidna in his hesitance. 

No, the human was approaching him, and that was much, much worse.

It spoke to him like it always did, while edging forward slowly and reaching for him. It repeated the strange word again. It smiled, but this did nothing to assuage the demon. His old fears surged to life. True, this human still did not seem to represent as much of a danger as other humans. It did not swear fealty to Lady Echidna, so he would not be remiss in striking it down. It held no magic, no weapons, and did not look strong. It spoke without anger. 

But still his old scars ached. Shades of humans before overlaid the intruder’s form like ghosts. The demon stepped back, slowly, uncertainty slowing his movement. His fur bristled.

The human reached into a pocket. For a weapon? Was this the fruition of its plan? Yes, it had to be. It just wanted to lull him into a false sense of security before striking him down. It could hurt him so it would hurt him and he’d been naïve not to realize it.

The human offered a small golden orb, and the demon leapt at him.

The impact knocked the intruder to the ground and sent the orb rolling away. The demon’s foot pinned the human to the ground and his jaws locked onto the arm that it threw forward to stop him for tearing its throat. It wore material on its arm, but it was feeble; the armor cracked lengthwise under his fangs. The other human made a noise of distress and moved forward, but stopped after the human beneath him said something.

He had to kill it.

He snarled and tightened his grip. The armor shattered and his teeth sank into cloth and flesh. Hot blood coated his tongue and strings of pink-tinged froth dripped onto the human’s face. 

He had to kill it. Lady Echidna would want him to. He should want to. Kill before you were killed.

So why couldn’t he?

The human raised its free arm. The demon’s heart sank. It waited for the final confirmation that this human was just like the rest of them.

But instead of striking him, it lightly touched the top of his head. It smoothed his fur back in a repetitive motion, straightening hairs long rendered matted and tangled from years of sickness and exposure. It still spoke, voice only slightly shaking with pain even as the demon’s teeth continued to sink into its arm.

It looked him in the eyes and said the word.

IV.

He remembered.

Slowly, then faster and faster, the flood of sense and memory overwhelmed him and dragged him under with the power of an ocean. He remembered life before Echidna, before devastation razed the land, when there were still seasons and life. He remembered the old daily sights and scents of the neighborhood he lived in. He remembered his home and his life there, the easy comfort and familiarity of knowing a space and knowing his safety was assured there. He remembered voices that spoke to him and each other, and while he couldn’t understand them then he knew that they spoke with warmth and affection.

He remembered the face in his dreams. 

It was his master. The one who played with him and protected him, the one who loved him most and who he loved the most in the world ever since he was a puppy. The one whose safety and happiness had been his top priority. The one who, in more peaceful times, he thought he’d stay beside for the rest of his life. The one he saw wracked with grief and pain one of the last times he saw him, shoulders shaking with blood and tears coating his face as he clutched a torn piece of cloth to his chest.

The one who was separated from him, not out of neglect neglect, but by an indomitable twist of fate. The one he vowed to find, even as years passed and the world withered and died along with his hope that he’d ever find him again.

V.

In the present, his master stroked his fur and said his name again.

The demon released him and backed away as if he had been biting a hot iron. He would rather have bitten a hot iron and swallowed it whole than ever knowingly do what he had just done. The blood in his mouth burned worst than any of Echidna’s venom. He hurt his master. How could he hurt someone he was supposed to protect?

The demon was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the other human approach and reach for him. He flinched, at first, but then relaxed; they were a stranger, but if his master was traveling with them they must be safe.

He was still as they touched Echidna’s collar. Magic sparked from their hand, and the collar fell to the ground like a dead thing.

He limped over to his master.

He smelled the same. He was, impossibly, the same age as when they were separated. He was still a young man, though looked much older in spirit, with new scars on his face and a tired sadness in his gaze.

His master scratched behind the demon’s ear. The gesture was so familiar it broke his heart.

His master smiled, eyes wet with tears. “I missed you, Pascal.”

Pascal did not have the strength in body or voice to express the absolute untamable joy racing through him. So he did what he could, and licked at the fresh tear tracks rolling down his master’s face.

I’m sorry, he tried to say with the gesture. Thank you for finding me. I won’t leave you again.

His master laughed. The demon’s tail wagged.

**Author's Note:**

> ancestrallizard.tumblr.com
> 
> twitter.cim/DVLblues


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